Chapter Four

Zane’s plans for a “tumble between the sheets” were derailed by my moody alter ego. I felt bad an hour later when he came to bed with a glass of water and sat hunched over on the edge of the mattress with his back to me, gulping it down.

I apologized to him, feeling like the worst partner in the world, but in his usual pleasing tone, he said, “I’m tired too. The long day is catching up to me.” He grunted as he set his water glass on the nightstand, slid between the cool sheets, and reached for the lamp switch to darken the room.

The flickering glow of the television was still on, and I went to shut it off when Zane said, “You can continue watching your show. I can sleep through anything.”

He turned to kiss me and wished me good night, but I wasn’t tired enough to fall asleep. “I won’t be able to sleep if we don’t talk about this,” I said, my voice sounding judgmental. I aimed the remote control at the TV set mounted on the back wall and muted a conversation between two local late-night news anchors.

Through the glimmering shadows of the TV, Zane stared at me from his side of the bed, the right side of his face buried in the pillow.

After sitting up against the headboard and glancing down, his eyes started to close from the long day. I brushed my hand over the side of his round face. “I know how hard you work. What I said tonight wasn’t to upset you. I just thought I’d tell you what happened. See if you could do anything about it.”

He raised his head an inch off the pillow and smiled, tossing me a wink. “I’ll look into it tomorrow, like I said.”

“I know you will.”

He nudged my hand with his nose and kissed me. “It’s not that I don’t believe you,” he said. “I just wanted to come home from an exhausting workday and eat my favorite dinner with my favorite person in the world.”

I turned to the television as a montage of images from the upcoming political debate of candidates running for president filled the screen.

“After I left my reading with Madame Petri tonight, I was scared,” I said, looking away from the news and down at Zane, weaving my fingers through his hair. “I just needed to talk to somebody about it.”

Zane mumbled and wiped a string of saliva from the corner of his mouth. “Like I said, I’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow. But I bet you—if I was a betting man—that Madame Pepper is fine. She’s probably at home laughing about all of it right now.”

I shook my head, amused by his interpretation of the neighborhood fortune-teller. “Why would she be laughing?”

A deep groan emitted from Zane’s gut as he pulled himself out from beneath my hand and sat up, turning on the lamplight and yanking the sheet up around his waist. The dark hairs on his muscled, bare chest glistened with sweat.

In the iridescent glow of the bedside light, I could see the discouraged look on his face. He grabbed my hand. “I promised you tonight that I’d look into this case on one circumstance.”

“That I won’t go back for Madame Petri for a reading,” I answered.

He nodded, annoyed. “I’m only a beat cop, David.”

“And a damn good one.”

He sighed. “If I get caught investigating unassigned cases, the chief will fuck me three ways till Sunday. I could lose my job.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t have the authority to elbow my way into people’s business on a hunch.”

“You wouldn’t be elbowing your way in,” I said. “And you’d be going on more than a hunch.”

“It’s just your word.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t want to get you involved in any of my cases.”

“But this is personal. Something happened to me tonight at Spiritual Crossings.”

“I don’t think you understand how much is at stake here.”

“And what about me? How about my feelings?”

“David,” he said. “Don’t play ugly with me.” He cupped my face in his hands. “I love you and would do anything to protect you. But I’m also going to proceed with caution. I have to think about me, too, and our livelihood. This is my job.”

I nodded. “I understand.”

“Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“Thanks for talking.”

“Good night.” He kissed me, the cool taste of spearmint mouthwash on his lips. “By the way, you need to stop smoking. Those things are going to kill you.”

After he turned the light off and we were both tucked underneath the sheets, I said, “I’m sorry about dessert. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Yeah? When?”

“Whenever.”

He opened his eyes and grinned. “How about first thing in the morning?”

I shrugged, winked. “Bright and early.”

He lay on his stomach, his voice muffled from the pillow, but I could understand his next words crystal clear. “I look forward to it.”

I picked up the controller to turn off the TV, but something on the late news caught my attention. I froze. What I was seeing felt like déjà vu. “Holy shit.” I nudged Zane. “Babe, look at this.”

He groaned and stayed sprawled out on his side of the bed, eyes closed.

“Zane. Wake up. Look.”

“Go to bed,” he said. “Morning will be here soon.”

“Jesus, Zane, I’m not talking about that. Look at the TV.”

He raised his head, squinted against the bright light of the TV screen, and grumbled at me. “What am I looking at?”

I threw the folded sheet off me and got out of bed, padded to the center of the room, and stared at the buzz of activity playing out across the TV. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “There are fire trucks and police department-issue SUVs parked in front of Madame Petri’s building.”

He leveled himself up on an elbow and cleared his throat. “What the hell for?”

“Her business is on fire.”